Hartmann: Malicious Rules (Hartmann thriller series Book 1)

by Helen L Lowe

  When he arrived back at the house at 3:15 a.m. he discovered that there was no electricity in the house. He went back out to his car to get a torch and noticed how, in comparison, it was lighter outside the house. The torch’s battery was low and he had to shake it every now and then but there was enough light to get up to his room.

  He always kept candles and candle holders in a draw in the kitchen, a habit he had acquired when the threat of power cuts became part of life in the power disputes of 1964. He stuffed a couple of candles and a box of matches in his pocket, he went back onto the landing holding the torch.

  He hoped Harriet would be fast asleep because the last thing he needed was to have her following him around in the dark. He would just have to find the fuse box on his own.

  As he made his way back downstairs, there was something about the silence in the house that made him feel uncomfortable. He shone the torch over the walls in the hall looking for a cupboard. There was one under the stairs, which was a common place to put the meters and fuses, but it was just a store cupboard for a vacuum cleaner and cleaning materials.

  When he went through into the kitchen, the light from the torch, which had been getting dimmer by the second, started flickering off and on. He just had time to light a candle before it went off for good. He lit a second candle, dripped wax onto a saucer and pushed the candle into the soft wax to keep it upright, and left it on the kitchen table.

  The kitchen was big. There were two large freestanding kitchen units, a massive oak welsh-dresser with displays of expensive looking crockery, and the kitchen table with four chairs around it. He found a narrow flight of servants’ stairs tucked away at the back of the kitchen. It reminded him of his Aunt’s house in Cornwall and the fun he used to have running up and down the stairs playing a game of hide and seek with Dapper, the Scottie dog, who was his best and only friend during the long summer holidays.

  He searched every cupboard he could find in the kitchen and a utility area, where he managed to knock over a large box of washing powder. It went everywhere and his shoes were covered in it. At the back of the utility area there was a door. Immediately, he knew it was the cellar. The houses in Sussex Gardens, like his Aunt’s house, were grand enough and old enough to have a cellar; a ‘below stairs’ where the servants spent many daylight hours.

  The heavy oak door was painted with white gloss paint and had a brass sign engraved with the words ‘Ward Sister’. He stared at it, taken-a-back by the bizarreness of the sign and its location. It must be a joke of some kind, something that Harriet found amusing but he had long since given up trying to work out what went on in her head.

  The brass door knob was stiff to turn and for a moment he thought the door was locked but it opened inwardly with a reluctant rasping groan. He held out the candle with his left hand and ran his right hand along the wall as he descended the stone steps.

  At the bottom, his right hand got caught up in some clothing hung on a hook, but even in the distorted light of the candle he recognised a nurse’s uniform. Further along, there was a small shelf in front of a mirror with a white nurse’s hat, a hair brush and white hair grips. He guessed it must be Harriet’s old uniform, kept down in the cellar for some unknown reason, and it reaffirmed his belief that all was not well in that woman’s mind.

  He followed the wall along to the right, reached a corner and turned left. There were large shelving units preventing him from searching sections of the wall and as he stepped back to walk around them he tripped over something and went flying. He dropped the candle during the fall and the flame went out.

  In total darkness, he scrabbled around on the cold concrete floor searching for the candle. His hand knocked over a metal bucket which made a din as it rolled away, grating on his already strung-out nerves. But the candle remained lost.

  He searched through his pockets for the matches, just four of them left in the box, and he lit one. The only way he could see anything was to hold a lighted match until it burnt his fingers and then quickly light another.

  By the time he lit his last match, he had reached the end of the shelves and stubbed his toe on something hard. He saw an iron frame, like an old-fashioned bedstead, just before throwing the last match away. Now, he only had his hands to negotiate the obstacle course but after turning a corner he saw a glimpse of light coming from the other side of the cellar.

  The light was coming from a small window at ceiling height and through it he could just glimpse the top of a street light. The house was an end-of-terrace, sitting on the junction of Sussex Gardens and Sussex Place, and the lights from Sussex Place ran down the side of the property.

  With his eyes becoming accustomed to the gloomy darkness at this end of the cellar, he glanced around. He saw little more than shadowy shapes but one of the shapes looked like a bed. He was about to resume his search for the fuse box when he heard a cough. He froze. Instinctively he looked over to the bed. There wasn’t enough light to see if anyone was in it but he was pretty sure there must be. Another cough in that direction confirmed it.

  Immediately he thought of Harry. Of course, it must be him but Harriet had told him that her twin brother lived at the top of the house so why on earth would he be sleeping in the cellar. It was perfectly possible that he might be using the cellar as a bedroom on a temporary basis. Perhaps he was decorating his room or doing some maintenance work. With the risk of waking Harry or whoever it was in that bed, Julian decided to forget about finding the fuses. Harry could sort it out in the morning.

  He was working his way back to the steps on the other side of the cellar, when he sensed someone was behind him. He half-turned, expecting it to be Harry and he was about to apologise when a searing pain ripped through his head and he crashed to the floor.

  CHAPTER 40

  6:20 a.m. Sunday 9 April

  Julian was cold, uncomfortable and the pain in his head was horrendous but he tried to stay with the lucid dream because it was getting to a good bit . . .

  . . . they stood in front of each other both refusing to give in. Lizzie was being assertive and he was being stubborn; it could have been a recipe for disaster but as their bodies moved closer and they looked into each other’s eyes, they kissed. The hamper was dropped as he gathered her in his arms, and he kissed her tenderly trying to wipe away his unkind words. They walked further into the wood and threw the blanket down inside a ring of bluebells. He felt her relax in his arms, and with the heady fragrance of the bluebells around them he made love to her . . .

  He shivered and tried to reach out to pull the blanket over their naked bodies but his arms were stuck behind his back and when he opened his eyes he saw a spider just a few inches from his nose . . . you’re still dreaming . . . you’ll wake up in a minute and everything will be fine . . . he waited for something to happen in the way things did in dreams but he stayed where he was and the spider walked away to hide underneath a hospital bed.

  ‘Michael, I’m going to take the tape off your mouth and I want you to stay calm.’

  Julian flinched at the sound of Harriet’s voice. She was going to send Michael’s post to Australia but at what point did the tape come into the equation and was all this real or was he just caught up in another dream. He forced his eyes to focus on a bed’s sturdy metal legs and a nurse’s ankles and shoes. It seemed the rational thing to do.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me - I’ll be good - I promise to be good.’

  The nurse was wearing sheer black stockings that had a seam running down the back, and shiny lace-up shoes with a flat comfortable heel . . . how did nurses manage to look so sexy in those shoes? It must be the whole package . . . crisp starched uniforms . . . black stockings, and hemlines that seemed to be getting shorter every year . . . someone was slapped hard and Charlotte came to mind . . . good job she wasn’t a nurse, she’d give the patients heart attacks . . .

  ‘I’m sorry Michael - I have to discharge you because we’re short of beds. I have a patient lying on the floor.’

/>   ‘Discharge? You’re going to let me go?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Michael – I mean kill.’

  Julian’s dream, if indeed it was a dream, had changed from an enchanting love scene to a nightmare and he was wondering how he could get back to the bluebell wood when the nurse’s shoes turned and walked towards him. They stopped right next to his head. His eyelids were lifted up and a bright light shone directly into his eyes.

  ‘Have you woken up already - you must have the constitution of an ox.’

  The shoes walked off out of sight. When they came back, hands shoved him further over onto his side. He had a clear view of stocking tops and suspenders but was focussed on a jockstrap when he felt a sharp sting in his arm and everything went black.

  * * *

  8:55 a.m. Sunday 9 April

  A high pitched scream jolted him out of his dreamless existence and left him shaking with fear. There was blood on the floor, dripping off the sheet that hung down from the bed; the nurse’s shoes and ankles were soaked in it.

  ‘What a fuss you’ve made - you’ll frighten the other patients.’

  Too right he will, pity she didn’t think of that before she killed him . . . he heard a groan escape from his own throat. The shoes walked over to him, and the smell of fresh blood came right up to his face. His hair was pulled hard, yanking his head off the floor, and Harriet’s blood splattered face and bloodied nurse’s cap appeared.

  She tutted loudly and pushed his head back onto the floor with force. ‘I can see that you’re going to need stronger sedation.’

  Still unsure of whether he was dreaming or not, Julian did the only thing he could think of and prayed to the God he had recently re-discovered. And although he wasn’t convinced that God’s ‘abiding love’ could infiltrate dreams, he was covering all contingencies.

  CHAPTER 41

  11:25 a.m. Sunday 9 April

  At the bottom of the steps, Harriet changed into her nurse’s uniform; a clean uniform that was free of blood stains and a freshly starched white cap. Her shoes had been thoroughly scrubbed and polished with black shoe wax. Even the matron at St. Mary’s would have been proud of her pristine appearance. She paused in front of the mirror to compose herself. This would be the first time a fully conscious Julian would see her as a nurse; perfection was crucial.

  The young patient in the first bed was heavily sedated and she quickly checked his intravenous drip before moving on to Julian’s bed. She had swapped the beds around so that Julian could be in the rear of the cellar, behind the large brick chimney breast that divided the cellar into two distinct halves. When she walked around the chimney the first sight of him made her draw in a quick breath.

  She knew he would be the perfect patient the very first day she met him. Now, the sight of him lying helplessly on the hospital bed with his wrists and ankles strapped down, was as perfect as it could get. His eyes and mouth were covered with gaffer tape but his head turned towards her, sensing her presence. He was waiting for something to happen. And in that moment of mutual suspense, she felt the penis in her jockstrap stir.

  She took a pair of scissors from her pen pocket on the front of her uniform and started cutting through the cuff of his jumper. When she had cut through right up to the neck, she went around to the other side of the bed and did the same with the other sleeve. Harriet was a little surprised by the baggy jumper and old jeans that Julian was wearing but it made stripping him easier. Just a few strategic cuts and some forceful ripping had him stripped down to his boxer shorts. He became quite distressed at that point, with erratic breathing and hands clenched into fists. Removing the boxer shorts elicited an even bigger response and, after deciding it was time to put him out of his misery, she ripped the gaffer tape off his eyes and mouth.

  He stared at her with the eyes of an animal caught in a car’s headlight; startled and scared.

  ‘Harriet?’

  ‘If you talk the tape will go back on. Now you just lie quietly while I get your bed bath ready.’

  She took her time washing him, knowing that the first personal contact between patient and nurse would affect their future relationship and, although she had already been cruel by leaving him naked while she had prepared the trolley, now she was careful to treat him respectfully using towels to cover up the parts not being washed. When she washed his genitals and scrotum, she noticed his abdomen rising and falling rapidly and glanced up at his flushed face. Of course, he was embarrassed but patients had to get used to this kind of thing. So, she didn’t stop what she was doing but she did slow down and used her fingers to clean in every crease and crevice. There were several sharp intakes of breath before he became really distressed and started wheezing.

  She looked at him seriously. ‘Are you having problems breathing? I didn’t know you suffered with asthma but I noticed the inhalers when I packed your things.’ She walked away from the bed over to Julian’s case, which was tucked away under some shelves, and came back with the inhaler he used twice daily. After shaking it, she removed the cap and held it to his lips.

  ‘Take a deep breath after the count of three – one, two, three – she pressed the inhaler as he drew in breath. ‘Hold it in for as long as you can - good – now once more.’ She repeated the process and was pleased with his co-operation.

  Confident that he wasn’t about to die from an asthma attack, her hands returned to his genitals and while she fondled him, their eyes met and she saw a mixture of humiliation and fear in his. She could see that he was struggling to cope with the situation but that was exactly the reaction she wanted.

  ‘There are rules in my ward, Julian, and you’ll be expected to follow them. If you behave you’ll be allowed some privileges. If you break them, there’ll be a suitable punishment. But now, I have a surprise for you, Julian – no, don’t look away.’ She continued with the massage, pleased that his penis was starting to respond against his will. ‘Ask me what it is.’

  ‘Please – stop what you’re . . .’

  ‘Ask me.’

  He hesitated. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve got Sam here – for you – I’ve kept him safe for you.’

  He stared at her in disbelief.

  ‘You don’t believe me? Would you like to hear his voice?’ She removed her hands, dried them on a towel, and walked around the chimney breast. Sam was awake. She pulled the tape off his mouth, and went back to Julian. ‘Speak to him,’ she said, ‘ask him anything you like.’

  He hesitated. ‘Sam, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, Dad - I’m here.’ Sam sounded close to tears.

  The look on Julian’s face was of sheer astonishment. He tried to sit up but all he managed to do was lift his head and shoulders off the bed. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘I think so – I’m sorry - I’m sorry I messed everything up – I shouldn’t have gone looking at rooms – you told me to wait for you.’

  ‘Sam – it’s not your fault - be strong - everything’s going to . . .’

  Harriet slapped her hand over Julian’s mouth. ‘That’s enough – I just wanted you to know that your son is safe, and if you want him to stay that way you’ll have to co-operate – do as you’re told and follow the rules.’ She removed her hand from his mouth. ‘What I mean is, if you misbehave, Sam will suffer – and by suffer I mean I will hurt him and may even kill him. Do you understand?’

  Julian nodded.

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good – I’m sure things will go smoothly from now on.’

  CHAPTER 42

  Sussex House

  3 p.m. Sunday 9 April

  Julian had been awake for an indeterminate length of time, staring up at the small grubby window. In his mind, he had gone through all the possible scenarios that could play out in this cellar and they were all bad. There hadn’t been a sound from Sam since they had talked when Harriet was there, but she had placed a strip of tape over his mouth before she left and he gues
sed that she had done the same to Sam.

  He wondered how Lizzie would react when he failed to turn up at the Serpentine restaurant for the lunch date they had arranged for tomorrow. He hoped she wouldn’t just accept his non-attendance as being stood up for a date. Surely, she would know that he would never just walk away from their relationship like that but if she did think it was a sign that their relationship was over, then he really was in trouble.

  He doubted that Charlotte would bother to contact him after their last encounter at the hospital, so the only other person who might try and find him was Joe but that wouldn’t be for ages. How would anyone know he was even missing?

  He heard the now familiar groan from the cellar door and footsteps on the stone steps coming down to the cellar. There was a long pause.

  ‘Sam – not again.’

  Julian tried to think of what Sam could have done to justify that comment.

  ‘I’ll have to catheterise you – I’m sorry but it’s the only way to keep the bed dry.’

  Julian understood the problem. Since she had started a saline drip on him, his bladder had been giving him plenty of signals. She came around to his bedside and pulled the covers back to feel the bottom sheet.

  ‘Good, still dry.’ She picked up a plastic urinal from the floor and placed it between Julian’s legs, scooping his penis into the top of the urine bottle with expertise. She looked at his face for the first time. ‘Come on – fill it up.’

  He tried but nothing came out.

  She placed a hand firmly over his bladder and pressed. ‘You need to pass urine, Julian – surely you can understand the importance of that.’ Her mounting annoyance and goading at his inability to urinate had the opposite effect; not a drop came out. ‘Well, that’s just great – now I have two catheterisations to do.’